


Day 3: Under The Influence

by ImagineBeatles



Series: Magical Mystery Smut Month [4]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Paul, Drugs Made Them Do It, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Magical Mystery Smut Month, Pining John, Porn with Feelings, Repressed Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25056178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineBeatles/pseuds/ImagineBeatles
Summary: During the filming of the Penny Lane promotional film, John is given something that he assumes is weed by a fan. It is already too late he and Paul realise that what they've been smoking wasn't pot, but a strange kind of aphrodisiac that brings out more hidden feelings than John is comfortable with.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Series: Magical Mystery Smut Month [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811731
Comments: 16
Kudos: 87





	Day 3: Under The Influence

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 of my Magical Mystery Smut Month. This wasn't the original plan I had for this day, but after a late night conversation about fanfic tropes with chutjedors, I needed to write a McLennon "fuck or die" fic. So... this is that. This is probably the closest thing I will ever write to a crack fic, so enjoy! 
> 
> Also, because it's important to me personally, I just wanted to let you know that John and Paul are wearing [these outfits.](https://66.media.tumblr.com/f190170af287e30ba5ad9f276bbf0f08/tumblr_poucbufBfq1sfx5gvo6_r1_250.gifv) these outfits. The Penny Lane music video is seriously a gift.

February 5th, 1967    
Paul should have known better than to smoke something he didn’t know. He should have known better than to blindly accept something that was given to them by a fan. He also should have known better than to trust John at his word when he told him it was “definitely pot” and “not at all dangerous, Jesus, Paul, live a little”. He should have known better, but as always regret only came after he had already relented. 

In his defence, the not-weed had looked innocuous enough. They had been filming some footage for the promotional film for their new single and when John had come up to him after a small break, carrying a small plastic bag of what appeared to be weed, Paul had been dying for a smoke. 

“Where did you get that?” he had asked as he and John had huddled together in an alleyway not far from the rest of the filming crew, but away from the chill of the February breeze that had begun to penetrate Paul’s clothes, even through his new long black overcoat he had grown to love, with its highly embellished stichting at the hems and pockets. “You didn’t tell me you had brought some.”

“Yeah, some fan handed it to me.”

“A fan?”

“Yeah. Nice looking girl. Short skirt. Handed me some when I went away for a smoke. Asked her to smoke it with me, but she said she had ‘things’ to do. Wish she’d done my thing instead, you know. She handed George some too.” 

Looking back, Paul knew he should have refused then, but John had been convincing and by the time George had rushed over to warn them not to smoke the “fuckin’ witch’s shit”, he and John had already finished more than half of it. 

“What are you on about, Geo,” John asked, taking another hit as he watched his friend with a frown. The next thing he knew, George had hit the joint out of his hands and on the ground. 

“What the fuck! I was enjoying that!” 

“Not for long you weren’t! T’is some kinda… I don’t know… weird aphrodisiac or something.”

“You’re joking!” John retorted with a snort, and when Paul saw George shake his head and reach into the pocket of his coat to take out a tiny white note, Paul too threw his joint onto the floor. For good measure, he stepped both his and John’s out. 

“Says so here,” George said, offering them the paper. John didn’t take it. 

“Where did you get that?”

“Was in the bag. Some kind of warning before use. Says it’ll give the smoker some erotic high, opening up their natural carnal flow and removing hidden boundaries and inhibitions that limit the release of their natural desires or something.” 

“Doesn’t sound so bad, does it, Paul? Not like we have much of that left,” John said, but Paul could swear he heard a slight tremor in his friend’s voice. George shook his head.

“It’s not like that, John. This isn’t some Viagra pill that makes your cock hard for a few hours. You can’t ignore it. If you don’t give into it, then…”

“Then what, George?”

“You die.” 

~~~

“You die?! What do you mean, you die?!” 

They had moved to Paul’s house, it being the nearest place they could get some privacy to discuss the trouble they had suddenly found themselves in. They had made themselves comfortable in his meditation dome at the end of the garden and were lying about on the pillows. John and Paul had taken seats far away from each other at opposite ends of the octagon, while George had situated himself in the middle of the room, lying on his back looking up at the sky through the beehive-shaped glass. 

“It releases energy or something. Or, it taps into your energy. And if you don’t let it flow out of your body through another person, it bottles up inside of you.”

“What does that mean?” Paul asked, and George shrugged. 

“Not sure. Might make you overheat or somethin’. The note didn’t say and I _know_ it comes as a surprise, but I’m _not_ actually an expert on these things. Either way, it’s not good. The note was clear about the dying part.”

Paul swallowed thickly at the answer, and glanced at John from the corner of his eye. He could already feel himself grow hotter, so he supposed George was on the right path with regards to the overheating thing. The feeling made him nervous. 

However nice and freeing the idea of “opening up one’s carnal flow” and “removing hidden boundaries and inhibitions” sounded on paper, the idea of it unnerved him. It sounded like a loss of awareness, a loss of control, and despite the almost religious undertones of the text, it sounded plainly animalistic too. He didn’t like relinquishing control, not personally, not artistically, and also not sexually. He didn’t want to be controlled by his subconscious, by his most hidden thoughts and desires, by something even he himself didn’t know he had in him.

Already he could feel the beginnings of an erection in his trousers and he shuffled uncomfortably where he sat resting against the wall. 

“How long does it last?” John’s voice sounded, taking Paul out of his thoughts. George again shrugged. 

“Five or six hours? Once it kicks in.”

“Fuck.”

“I don’t know what you guys are so worried about. If I were you, I’d go grab one of those birds that are always waiting around your house, Paulie, find yourselves a room and fuck your hearts out. Grab two if you think you need it. The note describes it as a highly pleasurable experience once you give into it. Better than any sex you’d otherwise would have had in your life ever. I’d give into it if I were you. Might still.” 

“This is bullshit.”

Without another word, John got up and walked out of the dome with long strides, stepping over George’s body as he passed it and giving neither of them another look before he slammed the wooden door shut behind him, grumbling some more curses. 

“What’s up with him?” George asked as he sat up to look at the door through which John had vanished. Paul shrugged. 

“I’ll go see. You stay here,” he said and with more effort than was normal (was that the strange drug’s doing?) Paul pushed himself up to stand, groaning a little in discomfort at the friction the movement caused against his hardening crotch. 

“Mind if I smoke some of your pot while I wait?” George asked as Paul began to make his way out. He simply waved at George’s question, muttering a “whatever” as he opened the door and followed John out. 

Outside it was cold, and Paul wished he hadn’t taken off his coat and jacket. Spotting John halfway across the garden, pacing with his arms crossed over his chest, Paul tried to hurry his way over to his friend, but his legs felt like jelly, making the uneven ground difficult to traverse. In the end, John saw him before Paul had managed to reach him, and abruptly turned around and walked on towards the house. 

“John! John, wait!” Paul called after him, and to his surprise John did as told. 

“What do you want, Paul?” 

“What do I want?! You’re the one running off.”

“Just fuck off and leave me alone, Paul,” John spat, but Paul ignored him. 

“What are you so mad about anyway?” he asked instead. To his surprise John chuckled at his question, looking away from Paul for a moment, and shaking his head. 

“You wouldn’t... get it.”

“Well. Try me.”

This time, John scoffed. He looked Paul over a few times, his hand coming up to stroke at his moustache, before he once more turned around to walk away. 

“Leave it, Paul,” he said, “go find get yourself a pretty girl and fuck her like George said.”

“This isn’t fun for me either, John.”

“Isn’t it? At least you have nothing to worry about you. You’re not—” John suddenly stopped himself, and Paul frowned. 

“I’m not… what?” he asked. 

For a moment, it looked as if John was about to say something. He looked up at Paul, eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth for a second, before he closed it again, cursing as he turned around and began making his way towards the house, pulling the backdoor open and stepping into the kitchen. 

~~~

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

The mantra repeated itself over and over again in John’s head as he paced circles around Paul’s living room, cursing at himself and at this fucked up situation. He wished he had never taken that stupid plastic bag from that girl. What had he been thinking?! He had just wanted to get high to forget about all the thoughts plaguing his mind every day. Instead it had only made it all worse.

He could feel the drug starting to kick in: his temperature had risen, his heart was pumping as if he had run for two miles, and there was pressure building in his cock. It didn’t even feel like the pleasant tingling of arousal. Instead it felt almost painful. 

It was all Paul’s fault. Even though he knew it wasn’t fair to blame him for something Paul had no control over, it felt good to direct his anger to him. George had said something about built up energy, hadn’t he? 

The truth was, John was more terrified than that he was angry. The effects of the drug were terrifying, and already he could feel the need to give into all of his natural desires push at him. Natural desires that he preferred would stay hidden forever. Natural desires that would end up killing him if he didn’t act on them now. Natural desires involving a certain bassist and close friend. 

The truth was, John had been in love with Paul for years. Since he had first laid eyes on him at the village fete he had wanted Paul. That had been over ten years ago. It was a long time to secretly yearn after your closest friend and confidant, after your songwriting partner and the man you had been sharing your entire life with for years. 

He had never told Paul. He had tried, but each time, fear had taken over. When he had been younger, it had been out of fear of rejection. Plain and simple. But as he and Paul grew closer, that fear or rejection had evolved into a fear of losing a friend, and his songwriting partner. Now, more than anything, he feared losing himself. 

John jumped as the living room door opened, and felt an odd warmth spread through his entire body as he saw it was Paul. There was an odd pull deep within his body, dragging him towards the other man, and John had to grab the armrest of the sofa to keep himself from following that pull. 

“You alright?” the man asked and John’s heart did a little jump as Paul stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

“Thought you’d be upstairs with some bird by now,” John said, trying hard to play it cool and not to sound bitter. He failed. 

Paul, however, didn’t say anything and walked over to sit on the couch. His arm brushed against John’s hand as he sat down and John felt a tingle run from his fingers through his entire body. He wanted to press closer, touch Paul properly, and it was as if his entire body was begging him to do it. 

“Feels odd, doesn’t it? The drug? I think George is right about the overheating thing. It’s like I’m burning on the inside,” Paul said and John had to physically restrain himself from reaching out to touch Paul, the mere suggestion of the _possibility_ of touching Paul’s skin making his cock give a little eager twitch. He forced himself to pull his hand away and stepped away from the couch, hoping that if he put some distance between him and Paul, the feeling would subside. In his hurry to pull away, however, he bumped against a lamp, nearly causing it to fall and break. When Paul turned his head at the sound to look at him, John’s knees nearly gave out. 

“Are you okay?” Paul asked again and John scoffed at the question, turning away from his friend to sit down on a nearby chair instead. 

“What kind of question is that, Paul! Of course I’m not okay! I’ve got this fucked up high that’s trying to _fucking kill me!”_

Paul stared at John for a moment, and to John’s horror, began to make his way over to him. John knew he had to leave, if he didn’t want to ruin what he had with Paul, he had to get up and leave right now before he did something stupid. Before he would do something that he would regret. But no matter how much John’s brain shouted at him to get up and leave, his body wouldn’t move. If anything it seemed to lean towards Paul, eager for his touch, his lips, his fingers, his _anything._

“Paul…” The word came out in a whimper, sounding more pleading than angry, Paul’s features softened at the sight of him. 

Then, suddenly, Paul was kneeling down in front of him, and John watched him in horror as dirty thoughts and desires immediately rushed through his mind, thoughts and desires he had managed to repress for so long. His body wanted to reach out, wanting to make all those desires become reality, wanting to touch the man he had been longing for for years and who was right there in front of him, kneeling, and looking at him with those eyes that haunted John’s dreams. 

When Paul reached out to touch his knee, John knew he was done for. His body lurched forward, hands reaching out to grab at Paul’s body, tangling themselves in his shirt, and before John knew what he was doing, he had his lips pressed against Paul and they were kissing. 

They were _kissing._

More importantly, Paul was kissing him _back_ , moaning against John’s lips as his body leaned into John’s touch, giving himself so beautifully it only made John want more. Paul’s lips were as soft as John had always imagined they would be, as pliant and as eager as they were in his dreams, and when Paul parted his lips for his tongue, John felt all of his hesitations and worries fall away as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over him. 

When he broke the kiss, they were both panting, looking directly into the other’s eyes and seeing the other’s lust reflected back. 

“If I don’t have you, I will die,” John could hear himself say. Instead of the look of disgust and betrayal he had always feared he would find on Paul’s face at such an admission, Paul now simply smiled. 

“Then have me,” was his simple reply, and John did not need any more encouragement than that. Leaning forward, he kissed Paul again, wrapping his arms around him to pull him close, giving into his instincts instead of fighting them. Paul, to John’s pleasure, moaned at the touch and moved to climb into his lap, placing his knees on either side of John’s hips and sitting down on John’s thighs. 

It felt amazing to finally have Paul this close, to feel Paul’s body pressed against his, his hands on his shoulders, his tongue tangling with his own, and feel the tremor of the man’s moans against his mouth. But he needed more. With every lick of Paul’s tongue in his mouth, the sound of Paul’s moans in his ear, and the feeling of Paul’s erection pressing against his own, he needed more. 

He reached down, sliding his hands over the curve of Paul’s back, down to his arse and grabbed, giving it a squeeze that caused Paul to rock forward, rubbing their crotches together. Smirking into the kiss, he did it again, and again, until even that wasn’t enough anymore. 

“Please…” John moaned, not quite sure what he was asking for. “Need… Need…”

“I know,” Paul answered and John felt that he did, even if he didn’t know himself. “I know. Let me—”

Not finishing the sentence, Paul kissed him again, dipping his hands down to John’s belt buckle to undo it. John could barely breathe as Paul worked, opening his trousers with a trembling yet skilled hand, before reaching in and rubbing John’s cock through his underwear with his palm, making firm circular motions that had John bucking up into him.

“Christ, Paulie…” John groaned at the feeling, tensing up against him as fingers dug into the flesh of Paul’s arse through his trousers. Paul nodded, as if in agreement, but instead of giving more, he began to pull back. 

“Upstairs,” he murmured, closed his eyes in pleasure as John tried in vain to press him closer again. 

As Paul began to pull back, John automatically followed, keeping his body pressed against Paul’s as his mouth latched itself onto Paul’s neck, licking and sucking and biting at the sensitive skin as Paul began to move them backwards, towards the stairs. Even as they climbed the stairs up to the second floor, John kept himself plastered against Paul, though by the way Paul was grasping at his body, John doubted Paul wasn’t doing much better. 

Finally, they found themselves upstairs, pushing their way through Paul’s bedroom door, and finally landing on Paul’s bed. Hastily they scrambled on top of it, John pulling Paul on top of him with eager hands and moaning as Paul rubbed his arse against his crotch. He had somehow lost his trousers on the way and the feeling of Paul’s slacks against his bareless was so intolerable, John’s hand immediately began making work of getting them off. His hands, however, struggled, fumbling awkwardly with the zipper and slipping as he tried to pull the smooth material down. 

“Fuckin’... hmph…” John muttered, huffing, and his stomach fluttered as he heard Paul chuckle in his ear. 

“You’re helpless,” he said and kissed John once more as he slapped John’s hands away, taking over and quickly pushing down his slacks. He had to pull away for the final bit and John reluctantly let him, leaning back onto the bed to take in the beauty of the man above him as he undressed, taking his underwear and shirt off as well, leaving him fully naked in John’s lap. He truly was gorgeous, with his long hairy legs, spread on either side of him, his skinny frame, the messy, ruffled now because of him, the sparkling hazel eyes, which looked almost green now, and the moustache adorning his plump upper lip. 

This was _Paul._ The realisation hit him and he almost stopped breathing for a moment. In the heat of the moment, it had been easy to forget, everything zoning in on the feeling of Paul’s body against his own, his mouth, his fingers. But now lying under him on the bed, watching him undress, it became more real. The desire was still there, insistent and burning, pulsing through his veins, clouding his brain, but it was more quiet now, more peaceful than the painful hunger he had felt when he had been fighting his desires. Seeing Paul above him now — _his Paul —_ cheeks flushed with arousal and smiling — it wasn’t scary but... natural. 

Reaching up, he cupped Paul’s cheek in his hand and stroked his skin with his thumb, feeling the beginnings of a stubble scraping his skin. He swallowed thickly as Paul’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch. 

When Paul opened his eyes again, his hand moved to slide under the soft fabric of John’s black sweater, his fingers traversing over John’s stomach, before moving further up, dancing over his ribs for a moment, before slipping back down and curling underneath the waistband of his underwear instead. Glancing up at John, he held his gaze as he slowly began to pull them down, further and further, before releasing John’s cock and slipping the underwear down his legs until they fell to the floor.

Rather than touch John, Paul instead reached into the drawer of his bedside table and took out a small bottle of lube. Squirting some on his fingers, Paul held John’s gaze as he reached behind himself, letting out a tiny gasp and a groan as his face constricted in discomfort for a moment. In response, John placed his hands on Paul’s thighs, rubbing them soothingly as he encouraged the other man to go on. 

After a few minutes, when Paul’s expression had eased and his breathing had grown more even, Paul pulled his fingers out and positioned himself, sliding further up John’s body until he was right above John’s crotch. Before he could do anything more, however, John stopped him. 

“Let me,” he said and without waiting for a reply, he took a hold of Paul’s hips and rolled them over, laying Paul out on the bed. Crawling on top of him, he pressed his body between Paul’s spread legs and rubbed his own cock alongside Paul’s. The younger man groaned at the feeling, his body tensing for a moment as he bit down his lip. 

“Please… John…” he moaned, inching his own hips up, and John gently shushed him, kissing him once more, before reaching down to line himself up at. Taking a deep breath, he held Paul’s gaze as he started to push in, groaning as he felt Paul’s rim give way, his cock entering the man below him. It was tight, tighter than he had imagined and he had to pause halfway through to let Paul adjust before he could push in further. 

“You okay?” he asked once he was inside. Paul was breathing heavily, his chest heaving, and was biting down his lip. Still, he nodded, although it did not look very convincing. 

“Y-yeah. Just… hold on one second,” he said and John nodded, leaning in to kiss at the corner of Paul’s mouth as he moved his hand up to stroke at Paul’s side. 

Once Paul had adjusted, he nodded, giving John his okay, and groaning as John slowly began to pull back, biting his lip to control himself and not go too fast too soon. Paul was gripping him tightly, clenching around him with every move John made, and when John pushed back inside, he let out a groan. John repeated the movement, making sure to go slow, and with each thrust, Paul relaxed around him more and more. 

“Harder… _John…”_ Paul moaned and John obeyed, biting down Paul’s shoulder as he sped up his thrusts. It felt amazing, pleasure spreading through him as he buried himself inside of Paul over and over again, hearing him gasp and moan in response to his movements, his arms and legs curling themselves around John’s body to hold him closer, pulling him down onto him so there wasn’t an inch between them. Paul’s nails scratched down his back as John gave a particularly hard thrust and when John altered his angle, Paul suddenly cried out, his whole body tightening around him in a way that almost had John coming prematurely. 

“Oh fuck! Oh _fuck_ , John! There. Right there,” Paul moaned and John nodded, fucking down into Paul at the same angle over and over again, enjoying the gasps and whines of pleasure that spilled from his lips in response. 

He got lost in the feeling, the drugs making it impossible for him to think. John could only feel; feel the way Paul dug his heels in his back, pushing him deeper; the way his fingers scratched his skin, or his hair tickled John’s face, or his breath ghosted over his skin; the way his hole clenched around him as to beg him never to pull out, and the way his hips rolled to meet John’s movements. He could feel the air on his skin and the bedsheets below him, rough where Paul’s body felt soft and comforting. 

He wasn’t sure how long they lay there, moving together, moaning in tandem, sharing the same air and occasionally kissing. Time failed to make sense and the outside world barely felt real. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was them, here and now, together, the energy moving between them, in a loop of giving and receiving. 

Drinking down Paul’s moan, John brought a hand down between their bodies, taking a hold of Paul’s cock to softly stroke him in time with their thrusts and he savoured the way Paul’s body shook against him in response. 

“John…” 

When Paul came, it took John by surprise. He had heard Paul’s breathing get more laboured, his moans more high-pitched and desperate, his movements more jerky. Still it took him by surprise when Paul suddenly clenched around him, gripping him tighter than before, and cried out his name as he came between them. 

John helped him through it, slowing his movements while muttering praises as Paul came around him, spilling his seed over John’s fist, until he collapsed with a sigh of exhaustion. John followed soon after, feeling his cock twitch before he spilled, burying himself to the hilt as he let his lips descend onto Paul’s, moaning into his mouth as he rode out his pleasure. 

“Fuck…” Paul gasped as John fell against him, breathing heavily as he brought up a hand to run through his hair. John chuckled weakly in agreement. 

“Next time a fan gives you something… just throw it in the bin, would you?” Paul said, groaning a little as he tried moving his body in a more comfortable position, despite being pinned under John. 

Instead of laughing, however, John froze at the words, doubt quickly pushing out the warm fuzzy feelings of his orgasm. 

“At least we won’t die now,” he said, trying to sound casual as he rolled over and away from Paul, directing his eyes up to gaze at the plain white ceiling instead. Paul did not respond and for a moment it was silent between them, both realising now the weight of what they had done. John had been about to get up and apologise, when he felt the bed shift. 

“I mean, I’m not sure. George said this thing lasted for five or six hours, didn’t he?” he asked, and John hummed, frowning as he turned his head to look at his friend. 

“He did…” 

“And I’m not saying we need an excuse to do this again, but… I do think we should make sure you won’t actually die because of me, don’t you?” 

John blinked at him a few times, and when Paul’s lips curled up into a grin, John knew it was alright. “You don’t mind, then?” he asked, and Paul shook his head. 

“I want to.”

**Author's Note:**

> Where is Ringo is this fic, you might ask? I honestly don't know. He never got off his horse, poor lad. 
> 
> I will say, this isn't the best smut I've ever written, but this fic ended up being far longer than I had expected. I ended up having fun with the concept and the emotional aspect, but the smut still works. Just, if I had more time, I would have spend more time on it. But that's part of the challenge! I hope you enjoyed the fic anyway. 
> 
> Tomorrow's prompt is "wet dream" and will be shorter and much more focused on the actual smut (you know... seeing as it's literally a wet dream). 
> 
> (And again, thanks chut for reading this through. I needed that laughing fit.)


End file.
